


orange blossoms

by treztine



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treztine/pseuds/treztine
Summary: She read somewhere once that orange blossoms meantyour purity equals your loveliness. She wasn't sure whatpurityhad to do with it, really, but thelovelinesspart was right, at least.





	orange blossoms

If nothing else, Yda was impulsive. Well, the Yda who wore the mask and borrowed her sister's name was, anyway. Lyse would look back on those days and wonder how she'd managed to fool the Scions for so long. She eventually realized that perhaps she hadn't and they'd simply shown her kindness by indulging in her charade. After all, she was a far cry from the astute Archon who she sought to take the place of.

Regardless of that fact, the Yda who was still alive was very much impulsive (and a bit brash and all too cheery, at times). That was why when Y'shtola offered her an orange and urged her to try it, saying that they were perfectly sweet when in season, she accepted it only to take a bite out of the whole thing, rind and all.

Despite the mask she wore, she must have made a face at the bitterness of the skin—a hilarious one at that, judging by her companion's laughter. She'd never heard Y'shtola laugh quite so much in all the time she'd known her. The conjurer was usually so stoic and refined that Yda was almost surprised that she _could_ laugh so loudly. It was a lovely sound, unrestrained it its delight, lilting and bright like the chime of a bell, and Yda quickly decided that it was well worth the mouthful of unchewed pulp that nearly made her retch. That pretty laughter ended all too soon when Y'shtola muffled the sound into her palm. She observed as Yda not so discretely spit the mouthful out and let the rest of the orange roll out of her hand and onto the grass at their feet.

"Honestly, Yda," she said as wryly as possible, though another laugh bubbled behind her words. "What a waste of a perfectly good orange." She nudged the discarded fruit ruefully with the toe of her shoe before her discerning gaze flicked back up. 

Her eyes were the same blue-green as the Rhotano Sea that pushed against the coast less than a malm away and seemed just as deep. Slit pupils sharpened her gaze just enough to make Yda squirm beneath it, though they were softened by humor and a subtle sort of affection that made her breath catch. Yda looked up at the tree they stood beneath to escape that gaze and placed her hand on the trunk, thankful to it for rooting her in reality. 

"I can get another for you," she said cheerfully. She made a grand show of shielding her eyes from the sun despite her visor and looked up at the branches that hung high above them. 

Without a second thought and before Y'shtola could protest, Yda clambered up the trunk, metal greaves clattering from the sudden motion. She pulled herself up the tree to reach the tallest branches where the most succulent oranges grew. About halfway up, she remembered she was supposed to be at Gridania _bells_ ago. Oh, she was going to get an earful from Papalymo for sure. But she decided that was worth it too when she glanced down and caught sight of her companion watching her, arms crossed and snowy brows drawn together in both amusement and disbelief.

"You needn't trouble yourself so," the Miqo'te called up to her. 

"It's no trouble!" Yda called back. It really wasn't. She'd spent enough time in the Shroud that the short trees of the orange grove were mere child's play to her. 

Her prize within reach, Yda reached out and plucked a plump orange from the highest branch. The fruit was beautiful and vibrant, perfectly kissed by the La Noscean sun with petite orange blossoms still clinging to its stem. She jumped down from her perch to land crouched before her companion and handed the fruit to Y'shtola with a grin, who shook her head at the other's recklessness. 

"Allow me to show you how to _properly_ eat this, since you apparently don't know," she said, wryness still clinging to her words as a smirk curled her lips.

Y'shtola leaned against the trunk of the tree and poked a sharpened nail into the rind of the orange. She tore the peel away and each piece landed at her feet like large flower petals until the fruit was bare. She tore a segment off almost triumphantly, not seeming to mind the juice that trickled down her fingers. To Yda's surprise, she held it up to her face and when her lips parted slightly to say something, the Miqo'te popped the fruit into her mouth almost as if to prematurely quiet her.

Yda chewed on the orange in silence and watched as her companion tore a piece off for herself. "It's sweet," was all she could think to say. 

Y'shtola's initial reply was a satisfied hum that escaped past her lips after she swallowed her own bite of orange. "Better than a mouthful of rind, I hope," she teased. 

At Yda's emphatic nod the other woman held the fruit out to her and silently offered her more. She thought to take another piece, but could do little more for a moment than stare. Y'shtola's bright eyes crinkled at the corners from the small smirk that pulled at her lips and the light of the sun filtered through the leaves above, cutting through the thick, hazy air of summer to cast its dappled glow across her bronzey skin and her snowy hair and the orange she held. Yda licked her lips in hopes that the bit of juice still on then might aid her dry mouth, but the droplets offered little relief.

However, Yda was nothing if not impulsive. She stepped forward past her companion's extended hand and leaned in to instead steal a kiss. Y'shtola's lips were soft beneath hers and parted slightly in surprise so she could taste the lingering flavor of orange, almost floral in its sweetness. She decided she liked the taste better that way.

Yda's mind eventually caught up to her actions and she pulled back in an instant of regret. She slapped her palm over her mouth when she fully processed what she'd done and her face felt hotter than the sun that painted long streaks of light across her. To her mild relief, Y'shtola looked more surprised than anything and blinked up at her almost owlishly before she looked away to stare at the ground. Yda's eyes followed hers and saw the perfectly peeled orange laid at their feet, likely dropped in surprise. A thousand apologies flew to Yda's lips but Y'shtola's piercing gaze flicked back up to look at her through thick, dark lashes before any of them could come out.

"Another perfectly good orange wasted," she lamented quietly. Yda would have thought she was being scolded if it wasn't for the still-wry smile that crept across Y'shtola's face.

"I can get another," she replied, words sheepish and muffled by the hand still clasped over her mouth. 

Y'shtola seemed to consider her offer for a moment. "No need," she said after a while that had stretched into eternity in its silence. She reached up for Yda's hand which fell from her face after a touch on her wrist urged her. The stoic conjurer closed the distance between them with a step and placed her hands on the taller woman's shoulders before she spoke in whispered words, "I like this better anyway."

It was Yda's turn to be surprised when Y'shtola gave the collar of her shirt a gentle but insistent tug that brought their lips together once more. The taste of orange passed between them again and she was glad the other woman agreed that it was better than any piece of fruit. In an instant she felt giddy and her mind went hazy as if in a dream, but the sensation of Y'shtola's soft lips and the subtle sharpness of her fangs grazing against her own lips and tongue rooted her firmly in reality. Her hands reached out blindly and found her companion's sides and circled her waist and then trailed up her back, pulling her closer. 

Yda sighed into the kiss and a laugh bubbled up behind it when she realized she would _surely_ be scolded for delaying her trip to Gridania by so much. But that was a distant, idle thought. When Y'shtola hummed happily against her lips, she knew nothing else mattered to her then besides the taste of orange.

 

* * *

 

Lyse wasn't sure what she expected to see when she pulled the curtain back. She knew what she  _hoped_ would be there: Y'shtola sitting grumpily on her cot, muttering about how she refused to suffer through everyone's poking and prodding for any longer.

The reality she faced instead was far harsher. Y'shtola wasn't talking or complaining or doing much of anything besides laying on the cot, deathly still. Lyse almost panicked for a moment, but calmed herself when she noticed the subtle rise and fall of her chest beneath the crisp sheet laid across her. She stepped forward and released her clammy grip on the curtain after she shakily pulled it back behind her and slid onto the chair placed beside the cot. She simply watched the other woman for a while, trying very hard not to think.

Reality eventually caught up with her again when she noticed how Y'shtola's face was nearly as pale as her hair and the pillow beneath her head. The flicker of candlelight exaggerated the sickly glow of her skin and cast odd shadows beneath her eyes that made them look sunken and settled across her lips to give the impression of a frown that wasn't there. 

 _She'll be fine_ , Lyse repeated to herself over and over, mirroring the words Krile said.

Y'shtola would be fine. Of course she would. She'd held her very essence (and Thancred's, besides) together in the Lifestream and emerged whole. Something as mundane as a sword couldn't possibly do the stubborn Miqo'te in.

That should've been enough to cheer Lyse a bit, but worry just twisted her insides further when she remembered that countless others _wouldn't_ be fine. She'd seen the bodies lined up outside the infirmary covered in white sheets like the one placed over the woman who laid before her. The feeling of failure was heavy and cruel, draping itself across her shoulders like a blanket made of lead. She'd certainly made a fine mess of the Resistance that she tried so hard to bolster and Y'shtola paid the greatest price for her recklessness in foolishly trying to protect it from that monster of a man.

Tears slid down Lyse's cheeks, involuntary and warm. She was almost glad when they blurred her vision so she didn't have to look at Y'shtola anymore. But she couldn't escape even in the darkness of her hands pressed against her eyes and still saw the sword and Y'shtola's aether crack and the blood—so much blood soaking into the dirt beneath her still body. It all replayed in her mind again and again as she curled in on herself and sobbed, trying desperately to muffle the sound into her bruised and bloodied palms.

Lyse wondered distantly if things would've turned out better if she'd just kept the mask on. She wondered how Yda would've handled things and wondered if her friends and countrymen would've suffered so much if she'd been in charge instead of Lyse. Yet in all her wondering, she couldn't find any answers or solutions or anything else besides a guilt so thick she almost couldn't breathe through it.

Somewhere amidst the tears and the agonized musing, Lyse wondered what Y'shtola would've said to her is she were awake. She was somehow sure the conjurer would tell her to stop her incessant blubbering, for one, and to pull herself together because she was alive to fight another day and she didn't almost get cut in half for Lyse to sulk at her bedside all night.

She almost laughed aloud at those idle thoughts. Just the suggestion alone of being scolded by Y'shtola was enough to make the tears finally stop. Lyse rubbed her face and peeked through her fingers, vainly hoping the other woman would be awake and staring back at her, looking unimpressed by her moping. She wasn't, but her face somehow looked a bit more peaceful than it did before. 

Lyse stood on wobbly legs. She knew she should get back outside and see if there was anything she could do to help, but found herself rooted at the side of the bed with her eyes lingering on Y'shtola's face. Her gaze slid to the side towards the bedside table and she noticed a tiny bundle of white flowers placed neatly beside the potions and ethers laid out there. Lyse took one of the familiar looking flowers and instinctively brought it towards her nose. When the faint smell of citrus hit her, the tears almost returned. She wondered who had left the orange blossoms there.

Her gaze returned to Y'shtola's sleeping face and found her lips, slightly parted with each faint breath she took. Lyse reached out with a shaky hand and let her fingers graze across her cheek and trace the outline of her jaw. Before she realized what she was doing, Lyse leaned over the cot and pressed her lips against the other woman's, so gentle that the touch was almost nonexistent. She hoped she might find the flavor of orange there, but could only taste the lingering medicinal tang of potions and the earthy sting of ash.

Perhaps if Lyse had been a prince from a fairy tale, Y'shtola would've been roused by the kiss. But she was no prince or chirurgeon or white mage or anyone else who could help her. The Miqo'te didn't stir from her slumber and was at the mercy of the Twelve alone. Lyse straightened her back and wiped a stray tear off her cheek. She tucked the tiny orange blossom she still held into the conjurer's disheveled hair and turned away before more tears could threaten to return.

She pushed past the curtain with a new sense of purpose. Though she couldn't help her heal, the very least she could do was not let Y'shtola's sacrifice go to waste.

 

* * *

 

When the Warrior of Light asked her if there was anything she wanted from Eorzea, Lyse knew exactly what to request. As always, her fellow Scion didn't disappoint and Lyse found herself with a bag full of La Noscean oranges. She was surprised, however, to find a tiny branch covered in orange blossoms sitting on top of the pile of fruit. It didn't take her long to figure out what to do with them.  

Lyse wandered the Reach for a while before she found Y'shtola. The conjurer was on the bridge near Starfall, looking up at the mark of the Destroyer. A snowy ear flicked back towards Lyse when she approached and the rest of her head soon followed to flash a smile. Even in the dimness of twilight, the Miqo'te's eyes were stunning. They weren't blue-green like the Rhotano Sea anymore. They were silvery like the moon that pulled at its tides, almost haunting in their blankness, yet somehow still just as pretty. Lyse felt the familiar old sensation of her mouth go dry at the sight. Wordlessly, she held the bag of oranges out with a grin, though she kept the orange blossoms hidden in her pocket.

Y'shtola's ears tipped forward with interest and she peered into the bag. "And just how did you manage to get ahold of these?" she asked, barely restraining her delight as a smile crept across her face. "Ah, let me guess: our Warrior friend?"

Lyse nodded in confirmation. "I don't think I can eat them all myself. She brought back enough to feed the whole Resistance." She chuckled, thinking affectionately of the dear friend who always took every request asked of her seriously—even something as mundane as fetching fruit.

"'Tis an enviable problem to have," Y'sthtola said, sounding droll beneath her smile. "One that I will gladly assist you with, if you are offering."

Lyse grinned at her companion. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

The pair sat behind Rhalgr's shrine with the bag spilled between them and an orange in each of their laps. Lyse's feet dangled over the edge of the platform, barely skimming the surface of the water as she absently tore small pieces of the fruit's skin away. Over the faint din of the waterfalls, she heard Y'shtola hum softly to herself.

It was odd, Lyse realized. She should have finally felt at peace. Y'shtola was whole and hale. The war was over. Ala Mhigo was free. Yet when she gazed out across the pool of water she felt a crushing weight, as if she were trapped beneath the churning falls with no way to reach the surface. She should have felt happy, but she didn't, and that just made her feel even worse. Without the constant presence of war breathing down her neck, the walls she built up cracked and everything she held in threatened to spill out. She looked up at the statue of Rhalgr and hoped for some miraculous shred of guidance to find her, but she just felt very small and very alone.

The orange sat in her lap, half peeled and forgotten, as tears suddenly slipped down her cheeks. Not a moment later, she felt a familiar touch on her wrist and looked down to see Y'shtola place half of a perfectly peeled orange in her hand.

"I see you still haven't learned how to do this properly," she said, voice soft despite how she teased her. 

Lyse laughed, but it was a strained and brittle sound that crumbled into a sob after a breath. She couldn't fathom why in the moment, but more tears blurred her vision before they fell into her lap and onto the orange she held. She felt Y'shtola's hand again, but that time it was on her cheek. The other woman used a thumb to gently wipe away the tears as they spilled out. 

"I hope you know that you do not have to face the future alone."

Lyse turned towards her companion and when she did, Y'shtola's other hand reached out to hold her face with the gentleness of someone who touched something delicate and easily broken. The blank eyes that bore into hers surprisingly still reflected a wealth of emotion.

"The Scions will be here to support you." Y'shtola reminded her of that fact firmly, almost as if to scold her for forgetting something so obvious. "And I will be at your side for as long as you have need of me," she added, words softening at the edges like a feather. 

Lyse closed her eyes for a moment to blink the tears away and focused on the sensation of Y'shtola's fingers cupping her cheeks. When she opened them again, she smiled. 

"What if I need you forever?" 

It was meant to be a joke, but came out sounding more fragile than intended given how serious Lyse knew she really was. Y'shtola still reflected her smile, though hers was as wry as it always was. 

"Then forever it shall be."

Lyse stared at the other woman, eyes tracing the outline of her face through the haze of dusk that settled quietly around them. Her lips looked so soft and enticing and Lyse found herself leaning forward, guided by Y'shtola's hands. However, Lyse was nothing if not impulsive (even at the worst of times) and shattered the moment when she suddenly pulled back, having remembered the orange blossoms still tucked in her pocket. Y'shtola's hands fell away from her face when she frantically dug through the folds of her clothing to reach them. The thin twig was a bit bent and the flowers had seen better days, but they were still rather pretty in her opinion. 

"These are for you," Lyse blurted out and held the blossoms up to a somewhat bewildered Y'shtola. She reached over and tucked the small cluster of flowers into the lapel of her jacket.

Y'shtola looked down at the flowers and then back up to Lyse with a bemused expression written across her face. "Goodness, and what is the occasion?"

She read somewhere once that orange blossoms meant _your purity equals your loveliness_. She wasn't sure what _purity_ had to do with it, really, but the _loveliness_ part was right, at least. Lyse had planned to say that, of course, given how romantic it sounded, but the words died somewhere on the journey from her mind to her mouth. 

"They, ah, smell nice."

Y'shtola raised a snowy brow and shot her a look. "Are you suggesting I need these because _I_ don't smell nice?"

"N-no! Of course not!" Lyse replied, reeling a bit at her own foolishness.

She expected to be scolded again, but Y'shtola simply laughed. It had been a long time since Lyse heard that sound. It was pretty as ever, light and lilting and all too rare in the last few moons. It drew a laugh from Lyse's own lips and made her forget her sadness and the tears that had already dried away. 

Y'shtola reached out to hold Lyse's face again. Her thumbs idly brushed across her cheeks and she pulled her closer so that their lips could meet. The kiss was gentle at first, almost cautious in its softness, but soon grew more intense and almost needy with newfound hunger from them both. Lyse reached out, hands flitting over the other woman's sides and then wrapping around her waist  to pull her closer, almost into her lap.

The oranges had long since been displaced. They sat beside the two women, half eaten and forgotten, but Lyse still tasted them on Y'shtola's lips, sweet as ever.

**Author's Note:**

> me, write something that's not about alisaie? i'm just as surprised as you are. really though, lyse/shtola is one of my favorite ffxiv ships and it's criminal that i haven't written anything for it yet. so here's some soft flowery romance because that's all i know how to write.
> 
> ps if you have a f/f ffxiv ship that's underloved....let me know. >:3c i want to get out of my comfort zone and write different characters more often.


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